


Repaying A Favour

by ginwrites



Category: Kingdom Come: Deliverance (Video Game)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Bathtubs, Blow Jobs, Class Differences, Closeted Character, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, One Shot, Power Imbalance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 06:01:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14129622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginwrites/pseuds/ginwrites
Summary: Henry is clueless when it comes to what is and isn't acceptable in noble circles. Sir Hans Capon shamelessly takes advantage of this under the guise of repaying a favour. Post hunting trip. Inspired by their actual, canon bathhouse visit which I still can't quite believe happened.





	Repaying A Favour

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Услуга за услугу](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17001996) by [Izzy_Grinch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izzy_Grinch/pseuds/Izzy_Grinch)



> For some reason I found myself playing this game for a ridiculous amount of hours and I couldn't get these two out of my head, so here we are. Personally I don't think I quite did Hans Capon's smugness justice. This is—above all—porn, unless I get around to writing up all the headcanons I have floating around. I hope you, one of the 3 people stumbling upon this tag by chance, enjoy!

“You saved my life, remember?”

“And this is repaying me _how_?”

“Don't be so ungrateful. You're not in a position to negotiate, blacksmith’s boy.”

“You know, if you really feel like doing me a favour, calling me Henry would be a good place to start.” The young Lord Capon raised his eyebrows challengingly until Henry hurried to add “...My Lord.”

“Much better,” he smiled sweetly, evidently satisfied at the small gesture of subservience, “Now just do as you're told, will you?”

As Henry finally entered the lord's chambers with a resigned sigh and shrug of his shoulders, his eyes settled on a large wooden tub which stood by the crackling fire. Even though it had by now been quite some time since he left behind his humble origins in Skalitz, for better or for worse, he still found himself awed by the unimaginable luxury in which the aristocracy lived. Above the large tub translucent steam was rising upwards, signifying that the water inside had been recently heated and poured by a fastidious servant. It would cool down soon no doubt, explaining at least in part the urgency with which Lord Capon ushered him inside and closed the heavy, embossed door. As he did so, he continued speaking is his usual derisory tone, studying Henry's appearance haughtily.

“If you do as you're told, _Henry_ ,” he emphasised his name pointedly, “then this will all be over and done with in no time at all, and you'll be able to go back to doing... well, whatever it is that peasants do all day.”

A dismissive wave of the hand accompanied his words. This alone was enough to get Henry's blood boiling, but he bit his lip, wondering what Sir Radzig would think if he could see him now. His self-control was limited, however, and he couldn't keep himself from formulating a slightly cheeky retort.

“Get what over with, exactly? Surely you didn't summon me here to watch you bathe, Sir.”

Capon's temper didn't so much as flare; he merely tutted and shook his head as he turned back to face Henry, fixing him with that piercing stare of his.

“Oh no, quite the opposite.”

“Wh-what?” Henry stammered, completely taken aback.

A smile twitched around the young lord's lips. He seemed smug, as though he was enjoying his subject's confusion a little _too_ much.

“Since we'll be spending even more time together in the future, utterly _tedious_ asthat might be for us both,” Capon closed his eyes and tipped up his chin, arranging his noble features into an expression of long-suffering martyrdom, “We can't have you walking around like _that_.”

“What do you mean?” Henry demanded, his bafflement shifting to indignation at the flip of a Groschen.

“Well, to begin with, that awful outfit you insist on wearing.”

Hands on hips, the lord advanced towards him, causing Henry to take an involuntary step backwards. He gestured to the green shirt and leggings in question before glaring with particular disdain at the red piece of fabric Henry wore around his neck. It was tattered to say the least, making it something close to a miracle that it didn't immediately disintegrate when Lord Capon hooked one index finger under its hem and pulled it up and over Henry's head. He discarded it without another glance, but Henry felt a twinge of regret seeing it go. While it was frayed and caked in dirt at this point, it was also an item he had had for longer than he could remember, a small memory of the home he could never return to. Of course he would rather have spent three days in the pillory than admit something like that to the snobbish lord, so he once again held his tongue, letting him ramble on.

“Not to mention,” Capon leaned forward, inclining his head slightly to inhale, “That _smell!_ ”

The grimace on his face could have warned Henry, but he was still taken by surprise when the nobleman set both hands on his shoulders and pushed him backwards towards the steaming tub.

“Wait! For crying out loud—”

Stopping Capon in his tracks was easy, as his own arms had grown muscular from fighting and riding around the surrounding fields and woodlands while the lord's frame was narrow and unused to any form of combat that didn't involve an expensive blade or bow.

“Get your hands off me, blacksmith!” Capon complained.

When Henry complied, he brushed himself off with a self-important huff, as though worried some of the dirt that covered the peasant’s clothes might rub off on his own, far more elegant garments. Following Lord Capon's gaze, Henry had to admit that he looked terrible. Despite having recently acquired a few useful pieces of armour from a slain bandit, when he was riding full pelt with mud and loose dirt spraying in all directions, the clothes underneath still managed to get utterly filthy. He was also aware of several cuts on his lip and around his left eye that he hadn't had any time to patch up; there were always more important, more pressing things to take care of. Maybe the young lord had a point, after all.

  
“You want me to bathe? Here? I could just go to the bathhouse...”

Capon shook his head curtly.

“These are the finest facilities you'll find this side of Prague. You'd be a fool to turn them down.”

At this point Henry found himself lost for words. He had a feeling that no matter the argument he put forth, Sir Hans would find a way to disarm it, so he gave yet another sigh of resignation and shrugged off his shirt, letting it fall to the floor carelessly. Next he began to undo his britches, at which point he glanced up and noticed the lord watching him. For reasons beyond his comprehension, this made him feel oddly self-conscious. Capon hadn't made any comment, nor did he seem about to; merely feeling his haughty gaze on him made him nervous. Stubborn as he was, this only made Henry more eager to disrobe. If this was some twisted trick on the younger man's part to humiliate him or make him drop his guard, then he wouldn't give him that satisfaction no matter what. Once he stood before Sir Hans without a shred of clothing to his name, his resolve crumbled only marginally. He hoped against hope that his discomfort didn't show on his face, even as he felt a slight flush creep up his neck. It was as though the other was appraising him with those cool, clear eyes, and then—

“Well don't just stand there, man! I'm not asking you to swing your cock around!” Capon's face split into an expression of deepest amusement, “Get in the tub!”

The blacksmith’s son did as he was told, and quickly, hoping to hide the reddish tint his face had now almost certainly taken on. A dip of his toe confirmed that the water was indeed the perfect temperature. It was almost annoying, Henry thought, as he got in fully and sat down in the warm, soapy water. Its scent was flowery, almost feminine, which he couldn't help but wrinkle his nose at. Did noblemen really bathe in such womanly suds or was this all an elaborate prank of Lord Capon's? He had yet to make up his mind. Of course the man in question immediately picked up on his displeased expression.

“What now? The water warmed at my own hearth not good enough for you?” he demanded, hands on his hips like a precocious child.

Henry quickly shook his head. As much as he was annoyed by Hans, he didn’t truly want to offend him, not only because he knew it might cost him a dearly if he _really_ managed enrage him.

“No, it’s… nice. I just didn’t expect it to smell so… so…”

“Good?”

“Uh…”

“It’s called _soap_ , Henry. I know, I know. _Ground_ -breaking territory for you.”

Lord Capon laid great emphasis on every other word, as though he was talking to a toddler or someone hard of hearing. Henry crossed his bare arms over his chest, feeling humiliated, and was just about to formulate a matching retort when the lord began disrobing without warning. He had to force his mouth shut which had fallen agape, caught completely off-guard by this latest development, yet try as he might he couldn’t seem to avert his gaze. It was clear Hans was taking his time, as though somehow teasing him even with this act which by rights should have been just as embarrassing for him as it had been for the other, yet his movements had a strange air of banality about them which succeeded in calming his unease a little. Each item of clothing he removed was more lavish than the last, which made no sense to Henry whatsoever. Why spend money on expensive undergarments no one but himself and the occasional female companion ever got to see? It seemed like a colossal waste of funds to him.

Finally he had to avert his gaze as he didn't want to catch sight of anything below Capon's waist, let alone be seen in the process. He shifted his legs beneath the foamy water to make space for the lord, who stepped into the tub without hesitation and sat down beside him as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Sir Hans leaned back with a long, drawn out sigh of bliss, closing his eyes. He seemed entirely unperturbed by the way their legs brushed one another, while Henry felt decidedly on edge because of it. It just didn't seem right for two men to share a tub like this, however spacious, especially two men of such different social status. It was as bizarre, like something out of a dream, and nothing about it felt like he was being repaid for saving Lord Capon's life.

“This is the life, hm?”

The question didn't sound as though it required an answer from Henry. In fact, as Sir Hans summoned an attentive servant with a single snap of his slim fingers, he almost felt as though he could just as well have dissolved into the warm water without making any difference whatsoever. The servant hurriedly added more freshly heated water, which caused more dense steam to rise between Henry and the lord, before fetching a large jug of wine and filling each of them a generous goblet. Never in his life had Henry had wine from such an expensive receptacle; it felt almost too precious to tarnish with wine, however exquisite it might taste.

“Tell me, Henry,” Hans addressed him carelessly, “How are you enjoying your first taste of luxury?”

“I can't complain.” Henry responded evasively.

For some reason, Hans had to laugh at this. Even after knowing him for quite a few weeks now, Henry still had trouble discerning his genuine laughter from the fake kind.

“Psh! There are very few things that I can always do.”

Now the young lord had taken on the tone of a great philosopher, gesturing with his goblet which he had already half emptied and glancing at Henry expectantly, evidently waiting for some kind of response. The servant, who had been nervously hovering beside the fireplace, took this as his cue to leave, closing the door behind him.

“Oh?”

“One of them is complain.”

They both laughed at this. It caught Henry by surprise, so he quickly took a large gulp of wine. Sir Hans snorted.

“You're knocking that back like a thirsty brewery horse.”

“Oh, I _do_ beg your pardon, Sir. Of course I should be savouring it like yourself.”

Once again they both laughed, Hans throwing his head back exultantly. Everything about this situation was suddenly going to Henry's head—from the heady perfumed steam, to the lavish wine, to the lord's childish yet oddly melodious laughter.

“You know, Henry, you’re not such bad company for a peasant.” The lord addressed him suddenly, as though this realisation had only just struck him out of the blue.

“Even _I_ would struggle to take that as a compliment.”

“I suppose I don’t have much to compare it to, as I don’t often keep such common company.”

“That’s worse!” Henry laughed, before quickly adding “...My Lord.”

Hans gave the fraction of a shake of his head and opened his mouth as if to say “there’s no need for that”. For a moment Henry almost believed he would—or maybe _hoped_ he would—but then the lord just laughed and shrugged and took another sip of wine.

“Since you drink like a horse I daresay you must be hung like one.”

The conversational tone Hans used almost made Henry spit out his own wine, but he managed to laugh it off.

“What, you didn’t get an eye full when I got in the tub?”

“I must have missed it.” Hans pouted.

“It’s hard to miss if I do say so myself.”

“Not modest, then?”

“I have no reason to be, Sir.” Henry grinned cheekily.

This kind of talk came more easily to him, somehow. It felt as though he was back home in Skalitz with Matthew and Fritz, exchanging comfortable vulgarities over a tankard of beer (or five). There was a twinkle in the lord's eye that had never been there in any of his friends’ eyes, a mischievous curl to his lips that appeared almost feline, but then maybe that was simply how noblemen tended to talk about this sort of thing. If there was anything Henry had learnt since entering this unfamiliar world of theirs it was that even the most banal chit-chat could have layers upon layers of hidden meaning that still remained a mystery to him.

“Let's see then.” demanded Hans, eyebrows raised in a challenge.

Henry waved a hand dismissively.

“You'll have to get me more drunk than that, My Lord.”

His tone still carried the joking, rowdy intonation which had taken him back to those carefree, drunken summer days, but to his surprise Lord Capon's no longer did. He jerked his chin at Henry.

“It wasn't a question, _blacksmith’s boy_.”

From the way he had switched back to his earlier derogatory form of address, Henry could tell he was being dead serious. He huffed, feeling warmth rise into his cheeks even though he wasn't sure if it was bashfulness or anger. Either way, he couldn't give the aristocrat the pleasure of knowing, so he stood up abruptly with as much bravado as he could muster, opening up his arms in a proud gesture. Hans’ eyes went wide for a brief moment as they took in all he had to offer. It wasn't as though Henry's assets had never been praised by the women he had lain with, so he wasn't _too_ shy about it, but seeing a lord such as Hans ogle it with such interest—could it be delight?—was an entirely different experience.

“See anything you like?” Henry asked flippantly, trying to cover up the inexplicable fluttering in the pit of his stomach.

Moments later he was left speechless as Sir Hans Capon sat up on his knees and placed his hands on either side of Henry's hips. The blacksmith's son's first instinct was to back away and out of their shared tub, but something made him stay, as though he was glued to the spot by the soles of his bare feet. Hans looked up at him placatingly from behind surprisingly long lashes and licked his lips. It was all Henry could do not to fall backwards into the soapy water out of utter surprise. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the nobleman, whose own gaze had now dropped once again to admire Henry's considerable length. Despite himself, Henry felt his cock twitch beneath this intense examination. It was excruciating. Every part of him was willing the lord to return to his usual snide, dismissive self and pour himself another goblet of wine, while simultaneously aching for him to do the unthinkable and touch him. The mere thought of it made Henry flush to the tips of his ears. Surely he would be hung, drawn and quartered for such thoughts, let alone for acting on them. Luckily for him, no action on his part seemed to be required for now. Hans curled one hand around his member, torturously slow in his each and every movement. His hands were soft with no hint of calluses, completely different from any barmaid or miller's daughter Henry had ever known. It was clear from his hands alone that this young man kneeling in front of him had never worked a day in his life, but that didn't stop him from pumping his cock like he knew _exactly_ what he was doing.

A hoarse groan left Henry’s lips as he involuntarily bucked his hips forward. From the smug expression on the lord’s face he was half expecting to be teased or even admonished, but instead Hans just shuffled closer on his knees, steaming water displacing around him. He paused in his strokes to admire his handiwork: Henry’s cock was now as hard as an iron rod and throbbing, aching to be touched more, to feel as much as possible of Hans’ soft, spoilt skin. Once again glancing up at Henry with a lustful expression, he leaned forward and brushed the leaking tip of his cock with parted lips once, twice, three times before his wet pink tongue darted out from between them and circled it slowly.

This sensual act dragged a fully blown moan out of Henry, whose fingers were now digging into his own thighs from the effort of preventing himself from grabbing the aristocrat’s high born head and fucking his mouth for all he was worth. It was beyond painful, being teased like this, but even he had to admit that the enjoyment Hans seemed to be getting out of torturing him like this made the pain feel oddly sweet.

The lord’s tongue then made its way from the base of his hard cock back to its tip. When he reached it, he finally enveloped it with his lips, evidently getting used to the sensation. Henry dimly wondered whether Hans had done this sort of thing before or whether this was his first time, just as it was Henry’s own first time with a man. It didn’t bear thinking about. The instant Hans bobbed his head forward Henry’s ability to construct a coherent thought was utterly robbed from him. Hans took about half of him in his mouth on his first try, eyes blinking rapidly, but soon got more greedy, pulling himself closer with both hands now holding onto Henry’s strong thighs. Finally abandoning himself to the reality of what was happening, Henry’s head fell back onto his shoulders as he moaned once again, louder this time, uncaring and oblivious to whoever might overhear them in this drafty castle. The young lord’s hot, demanding mouth around his cock was too much to bear without venting his arousal verbally.

Getting more and more confident, Hans was now able to take almost all of Henry’s sizeable member. Occasionally he could feel the nobleman’s teeth graze his most sensitive skin but at this point it only added to the delicious friction his mouth and swirling tongue were granting him. He was absently aware that Hans was only holding onto him with one hand now, the other having disappeared between his own legs. A glance told him that he was pleasuring himself, but Henry’s eyes caught his and suddenly he found himself unable to look away.

All at once he was painfully aware that no other than _Sir Hans Capon_ _was sucking his cock._ A lord so noble that up until a few weeks ago he wouldn’t have dared meet his gaze let alone address him was on his knees in a tub of slowly cooling water, lips stretched around his throbbing cock. Henry’s every breath was short now, little huffs of air sharp in his lungs as though he’d just run all the way from Talmberg at full speed. He couldn’t bear how full and puckered Capon’s lips looked, how they felt against his shaft and tip each time he bobbed his head back. It was as though he was getting better with every time, swirling his tongue along with his rhythmic movements and picking up speed, knowing exactly what this would do to Henry. Hans’ breath, too, was coming more quickly now as he worked on his own, more modest cock just above the still foamy surface of their shared bath. Every so often a little moan would escape him, barely muffled by the large member occupying his mouth. It caused divine reverberations to travel up Henry’s cock and lower abdomen, but nothing could make him tear his gaze from the other’s face.

The noble, well-defined featured which usually carried a snide or smug expression now looked utterly enraptured. It would have been unnerving seeing Hans like this, if it hadn’t been so mesmerising. His eyes were heavy-lidded and unfocused, almost dreamy, while his cheeks and the bridge of his nose were dusted with a delicate reddish hue. Despite all this and the moisture-laden air, the lord’s carefully groomed hair was still infuriatingly immaculate.

Without making a conscious decision to do so, Henry released his vice-like grip on his own thighs and thrust his hands into Capon’s hair, feeling soft tufts of it thread between his fingers. Surely hair had no business being this soft, he mused, or maybe that was precisely the purpose all these sweet-smelling soaps and oils served. The young lord’s eyes went wide briefly, but soon returned to their blissful, half-lidded state. He all but purred as Henry ran his hands through his hair, finally tousling that oh-so-perfect hairstyle of his. Hans increased his fervour, taking Henry’s cock all the way up to the hilt with each forward movement until he could feel the tip of his cock reach his throat. His strokes of his own cock had become feverish, too, causing an audible splashing of water between his legs and even more lewd moans which sent delicious arcs of pleasure shoot up Henry’s length.

Losing all self-control as the tension in the pit of his stomach rose to breaking point, Henry’s callused fingers curled, holding onto fistfulls of Hans’ fair hair. At last he thrust forward without restraint, fucking the aristocrat’s mouth and throat with his head thrown back and gasping for release with every ounce of breath remaining to him until he was finally granted it, his chest heaving while his every muscle tensed and spasmed.

In those few ecstatic moments he was completely unaware of Hans, of his own muffled climax and strangled yelp as Henry’s hot, thick seed coated the inside of his throat. He held him in place blindly while Hans choked, hands scraping ineffectively at the stronger man’s torso until finally his vision cleared and he released him, his muscles going limp in the aftermath of orgasm.

Henry sat down rather gracelessly, water splashing out of the tub and onto the fur rug that adorned the floor around them. He ought to be worried, he thought numbly, worried that this would cost him his place in Sir Radzig’s following or—if worse came to worse—his head, but he just couldn’t bring himself to. Never had he had a comparable experience, and every part of him wanted to savour that. His body was still thrumming with fierce, hot energy even though his limbs were now as useless as a doll’s. Nonetheless it took him several long intervals before he plucked up the courage to to steal a glance at Lord Capon, terrified of what he might find. Much to his surprise, he found the lord looking back at him, with nothing but his plumped, reddish lips and mussed up hair to show for their illicit act. His smug little grin was the same as ever as he fixed Henry with his piercing gaze.

“How’s _that_ for repaying a favour, blacksmith’s boy?”


End file.
